


On The Wind

by Relxct



Series: Caught Your Scent [1]
Category: Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief mentionings of vomitting, Dracula loves it, I have no idea what I'm doing, Johnny hasn't explored the castle in depth but he knows something isn't right, Johnny is a little shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22747909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relxct/pseuds/Relxct
Summary: In which Dracula is slower in the consumption of Johnny and this results in his favorite English man managing to escape. Jonathan, having more strength than he lets on flees late one night.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Series: Caught Your Scent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637128
Comments: 15
Kudos: 197





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that came to mind as I'm struggling to write another Dracula/Johnny fic.  
> I know there is probably errors as most of this was written super late at night. Forgive me.  
> This was supposed to be short, it was also supposed to be a oneshot. Guess not.
> 
> Follow me @ thornedvale on tumblr. I tend to post random ideas and other fic stuff there. Can probably get sneaks peeks of chapter 2 before it's fully posted here.

Jonathan Harker was not very intimidating by any means. His frame was thin but lean however this made many throughout his life underestimate him. After all, how could someone like him be any kind of physical threat? The answer was simple, physically he was no threat if the name of the game was harming another. Not including the one-off fits of strength usually demonstrated by a stronger punch than expected, of course. Those were horribly unreliable and not to mention difficult to predict as was the case for everyone.

Despite this, life had trained him to have a few low-key skills for just such an emergency. The first, was his ability to pay attention so not to be caught up in the games clever people played. The second, being the baby of three brothers. If nothing else it had taught him to use energy effectively so one doesn’t burn everything in the first round against an opponent stronger than himself. Plus, there was the added benefit of learning to act on the fly. A useful skill that had ensured his brothers would receive the brunt of punishments while keeping his own hide intact.

The ladder of skills was one he hadn’t needed to call upon in many years. Yet, in this dark situation with Count Dracula he was happy the old tricks were quick to return to him as if it were only yesterday. Still, he needed to be careful and the Count seemed to have mysterious ways in knowing things about him without words being spoken. He had to play things right and time it well otherwise everything could unravel.

—

He wasn’t sure and yet some part of his mind, no his very soul, knew it to be true. The count was stealing his life and youth night after night. It was difficult to tell at first as whatever procedure being performed on him was slow acting and yet the changes in his host were clear. The man was growing young and strong again. He wouldn’t have believed it if the sight of the Count as an old man hadn’t been known to him. He was unnerved and rightfully scared of just how far all this was going to go. Jonathan wanted to go home to his wife to be and forget all this.

He was positive that Count Dracula had made no such deal with his employer to stay and teach the man. It was a trap and he was unfortunate mouse stuck in a maze. Well, no longer.

The first step had been to look himself over carefully using the largest shard of mirror he could get from when his host had broken his shaving mirror. His body appeared mostly intact save for the scar on the side of his neck. Strange, he’d never had such a mark prior to arriving. He’d stake his life on it.

Running fingers over the raised flesh made the muscles give an involuntary twitch. The mark looked old but his body acted as if it were new and still tender. Another brush of fingers made the skin shiver causing him to rub the side of his head against his shoulder to chase away the sensation. The quivering feeling sent his mind back into the depths of memories he hadn’t known lingered still. Thoughts of the first night under this dreadful roof. The stress and eagerness for rest that had given way to a blissful dream of his darling Mina. The gentle caress of her fingers on his exposed skin after playfully tugging his shirt open.

Soft skin pressing down on him, keeping his body pinned. Nails tracing designs into the flesh in order to guide his head to the side. Coaxing him to expose the throat to gentle lips between flicks of a tongue at his ear. Jonathan remembered trying to reach for her but having his attempts redirected to lacing their fingers together. Joined in this moment of passion.

Another tracing touch to the scar made him recall the moment one of his hand was pushed down into the pillow above his head. Fingers still locked in their embrace there was no way to break free even if he had wanted to. Lips moving lower down the column of his throat bringing another shiver and even a small groan. He wants to pull his lover’s head up for a kiss but try as he might both his hands won’t answer his call as they are still stuck in the hold of the other.

The wondering mouth suddenly latches on to his neck right where the pulse was. He gasped at the rough behavior and whined as flesh was abused with sucking and swipes of the tongue. For a moment it felt as though Mina was trying to mark him. A calling card to inform anyone with wondering eyes that he was taken. It wouldn’t have bothered him if the action didn’t seem so unlike his dear wife to be.

In that moment teeth bit down on the newly made sensitive skin. Pain fired down his spine causing Jonathan to arch upwards. The sensation made him pull at his hands and push with his body to try and dislodge the body above him. Yet, all this did was make his vicious lover push down with their own body forcing him back into the bed. Hands holding his tightened uncomfortably as a low growl vibrated against his throat. He couldn’t breathe feeling like he was being smothered. It was only when teeth let up and sucking resumed did his lungs remember how to function. The grip on one of his hands loosened and later let go completely. It traveled up his arm in a smooth motion over the other side of his neck, even grazing his parted lips before burying in his hair. Holding his head in a strong grip while lips and tongue worked on his neck tirelessly.

Jonathan’s now free hand gripped the bicep near his head and even through the haze he knew that it didn’t belong to any woman, let alone Mina.

\---

Jonathan jerked out of his thoughts no longer wanting those images to play in his mind. Now was not the time to be distracted by nightmares in the guise of harmless dreams. No, he had to get out otherwise he feared the worst for himself.

The only path obvious enough was the very door he’d entered this prison from. Yet, it was so obvious that of course it would be guarded by his host. Afterall, was that not why Dracula always seated him by the fire when they’d dine together _?_ Or rather, Jonathan would dine and the Count would sit between him and front door watching or reading like a guard waiting for the end of his shift.

One could argue that it was simple courtesy to give the guest the warmest seat in a drafty old castle, but nothing here seemed to ever be just out of kindness. It was bait or a means to distract. As selfish as it sounded, Jonathan wished it had been someone else sent here and not himself. If he made it back to London, and how he wished for that to be, there would be hell to pay. Things would change, a review process installed perhaps to keep situations like this from ever happening again.

All of that meant nothing if he could not reach that front door. Even if he got to it without being noticed, would it open? The Count did say this place was known as the prison without locks. Plus, judging from the way the coachman and the other passengers had acted when dropping him off at the fork, not a single soul within their right of mind would dare come here. That thought alone gave him hope that the door would be unlocked.

That aside, was the door heavy? Did it make a sound great enough to alert his jailer? He thought hard back to that night of his arrival. The door’s knocker had been loud, but for the life of him there was no memory of hearing the sound of that great door open. He’d been so distracted by the bats that had swarmed him for knocking too loudly. Once they had cleared the door had just stood open like a silent invitation and his bags had somehow found their way in before him.

The sound of the door closing behind him had been clear. It echoed a bit into the castle but if the Count was somewhere beyond those first few rooms there was a slight chance that he could get out without alerting the monster.

It makes matters worse he would have to flee at night while Dracula was active. It was far from ideal. All rational thought said to make the escape during the day when the Count was nowhere to be seen. Yet, something inside of him told him that wouldn’t work. If he waited until morning the count would find him out for sure. Besides, if those nightmares were real and Dracula truly was visited him in his sleep for the purpose of stealing his blood then by the time morning came, he’d be rendered weaker than he was now.

Jonathan also had to bear in mind that somehow his host was able to know things of his life without it being stated aloud. What if during the next visit Dracula was able to learn of his plan to escape as easily as he had plucked Mina’s name out of thin air. Worse, what if the Count purposely took more blood than his usual amount to render any thoughts of escape useless without the strength of flesh to back it up? These were problems he didn’t wish to face though he hoped some of this was just the stale air of the castle messing with his mind.

Some part of his mind wished this was all delusions cooked up by fear and local superstition. He hoped he was reading all this the wrong way. Yet, his heart reminded him that this wasn’t his beautiful London. This was not the place he knew to be logical and mostly orderly. This was a land that held to folktales and supernatural stories like his own held on to innovation. This was their way of life and for good reason as it ensured their survival against fiends like the Count.

\---

That night Jonathan had hatched at least a piece of a plan. One he hoped would make the Count leave his side for the night. It involved those old acting skills of his. Though he still wished for a full mirror, he had to make do with the fragment from earlier. He didn’t have a lot of time because he was sure that once it was clear to the Count that he wasn’t coming to diner it would result in a room visit. Afterall, a good host must be sure the guests are comfortable and haven’t fallen ill.

Ill was exactly what was going to happen too. Jonathan had been careful to collect a little ash from the fireplace and using the mirror fragment, applied a little bit around his eyes. Not too much, just enough to make it look as though sleep had been scarce and that had caused bags to form under his eyes. His complexion was already siding on the paler end of the spectrum so no need to add much there. He’d once heard of blood being used to make cheeks look rosy and the thought had been tempting to give him a feverish appearance, but it was decided to avoid blood for the moment.

Placing the piece of mirror away far enough he stared at his reflection. Thinking of what else he could do to sell the idea that he’d woken up under the weather. Sweat would be a nice touch and make him feel hot. He could also shorten his breath and make his voice raspy as if coughing had made it sore. He could also force himself to throw up though that might be a bit much for a sudden illness. Unless, he wanted to sell food poisoning. The thought was tempting, imply that the Count’s food had made him ill.

Would that really have been so farfetched? A traveler from another land falling ill from cuisine not his usual fair. He was sure there truly were no servants within these walls, so that would mean that the Count was the one making the food. There would be no one to blame for Harker’s dip in health other than the host himself.

Seemed solid enough, yet there was a chance that this would actually cause his host to stay closer to his side than normal. Still, he had to try.

He worked quickly to heat some of the water from where he usually washed his face by the fire. While it was warming up, he brought a pot over to his bedside. Kneeling over it he braced by taking a couple deep breaths through his nose. Once ready he slides a finger into his mouth pushing as far back as it took for the gag reflect to try and stop him. It didn’t take long for nausea to wash over his senses. His eyes watered with the feeling as his throat worked to try and expel the unwanted object.

Hand shot away from his mouth as his body lurched forward and unloaded the contents of his stomach into the pot. His eyes had to shut otherwise the sight might have made him vomit naturally. After catching his breath, it was time for the next detail. He rearranged himself to do a few pushups until his arms felt sore. The purpose, to make himself breath heavier and have some body sweat. The warm water would help him make it seem more extreme.

He retrieved the water and used to hand to splash a bit onto the pillow where his head would lay. Hair dampened by running the same hand through it a few times. His face was next, careful to not undo the ash around his eyes. Neck and even his shirt in places. Placing the water back he climbed back into bed and curled up on himself trusting the body heat to make him sweat more and warm up the water on his skin. All there was left to do was practice his breathing and get the sick act down pat before Dracula arrived to check in on him.

\---

There was a knock at the bedroom door sometime later. Even through the low light of the room and the shadows of the doorway his host could be seen. As if on cue it was Count Dracula looking younger than the previous night. Dressing simply in black pants, a white collared shirt, with a black vest and tie to match. Jonathan hated how _English_ he looked.

“How unlike you to be late to diner, Jonathan.” The tone reminded him of a parent scolding a child.

“Apologies.” The word was weak on his tongue but Jonathan was determined to sell his ruse. So, his head only slightly moved like it was a chore. A shiver ran up his spine and the blankets were clutched tighter to fend the chill away.

The Count didn’t respond right away. He could hear footsteps entering the room and stopping near his side of the bed. No doubt the scene was being taken in. Evidence being absorbed, the suspense was making him want to fidget. Suddenly, the weight on the bed shifted as the other man sat down beside him. A hand coming to rest on Harker’s arm through the blankets. It rubbed circles through the fabric with the thumb.

Jonathan could do nothing but continue breathing his short breaths and wheeze from time to time. The hand pushed up his arm to his shoulder. No doubt feeling the dampness of his shirt collar poking out from under the blanket. With eyes half lidded he glanced up at the Count to see an expression of something akin to confusion and concern. Probably trying to figure out how his guest could have fallen sick overnight.

“Darling, you don’t look well at all.” The darling wasn’t lost on him. The Count seemed to enjoy using words that made Jonathan feeling like his gut was twisting.

The hand traveled from his shoulder up the column of his throat. Nothing he could have done would have stopped the gasp the left him involuntarily when the Count’s thumb brushed the scar on his neck with an almost loving caress. Another shiver, a real one, shook his body making him try to pull the sheets higher to block Dracula’s touch.

This earned a huff out of his host and the sounds urging him to shush and relax. The hand moved up still over the side of his face and into his hair. Long fingers gently tracing lines over his scalp a few times. Like a man stroking his faithful dog. “You were the very picture of health last night. How strange for that to change so swiftly overnight.” Whether it was a simple observation or a call on Jonathan’s bluff, it wasn’t known. The Count just continued to sits there looking down at the sickly man thinking thought unknown to any other than himself.

“Perhaps something to drink will help rejuvenate you, my dear. Broth, perhaps. Wine, might need to be shelved tonight.” The back of his hand rested against Harker’s forehead feeling his temperature. “No fever, this is a good sign. Perhaps, this bug will pass over night.”

Jonathan groaned pulling himself up so his upper body dangled over the edge as if he was going to throw up once more. A hand over his mouth as he tried to focus on the pressure and chance the imaginary nausea away. “P-Please no…” He took a deep breath. “I fear the very thought of food causes my stomach to roll.”

It took another long moment for him to settle back into his original place on the bed. “As you wish, I shall forgive your absence tonight due to these circumstances. However, if your condition does not improve by tomorrow night than I will insist upon you eating some manner of sustenance.” The Count withdrew the ever-roaming hand to rest in his lap before standing up once more giving Jonathan a look before moving to leave.

The footsteps stopped and from the angle it could be seen that the Count was staring at something. His window, which was open. Moreover, he could most likely see the scratch marks in the glass that appeared the very first night of his stay. “Dear boy, that window really should be closed if you are to make a speedy recovery.” Though it sounded as if the words were meant for Jonathan the tone offered that his host was really just speaking aloud. With a few short strides the Count vanished from sight and he could hear the sound of his window being firmly secured. No doubt the drapes were closed as well to prevent drafts.

The thought of his bedroom being lost in full darkest even during the day was not one he wished to think of. It was alright though, as this would be the last time, he’d have to see this room, let alone this prison, should things turn out well.

Dracula walked back to the doorway taking hold of the doorknob as he went. He started pulling shut when his other hand stopped on the frame. The Count’s body froze and Jonathan had this undeniable sense of dread coil in his stomach. A cold feeling born from the thought of what if his plan had just been exposed and it was clicking in his jailer’s mind. This idea nearly caused his composure to break when the Count sudden was looking at him with an intense stare. Eyes of a predator that had just caught a scent, perhaps.

“Jonathan, please, feel better soon. You are valuable to me yet and I, personally, can not wait to resume our _exchanges_. Good night.” There was something in the way those words were said that made him shutter once again.

“Good night, Count Dracula.” He rasped out making a show of adjusting himself for more comfort and appearing to settle into a sleeping position.

The door closed shortly after that. Yet, Jonathan dared to not move just yet fearing the man was still in the hall. Excitement surged in him as it appeared that stage one of his plan was a success. If Count Dracula’s words were to be taken at face value, then the rest of the night was his to recover from his alleged illness.

\---

Jonathan did not leave his room until he was sure it had been an hour since Dracula had left him for the night. Hell, he hadn’t moved from the bed in that time either. Instead the hour had been spent on his back thinking of how the next step would go. His entire escape hinged on the idea that his host would not be anywhere along his path to the front door. If for any reason Jonathan had to try and detour from the path committed to memory it was quite possible that he’d get lost in the labyrinth.

All this made him wish waiting until sun up was an option. Heaven forbid what would happen should he be caught. No, No! These thoughts will not stop him now. The penalty of failure could be no worse than if nothing were to be done at all. No risk, no reward.

Absently, he vowed to find his brothers and hug them both tightly should he survive this ordeal. For it was their constant bullying that had armed him to deal with brutes that tried to abuse him.

Once he decided it was time to move, he set to work prepping himself. Giving himself a wall to remove the ash from his eyes. The water helped to clear his thoughts and focus the mind. Next was to change clothes, after having dampened his current attire for the ruse that last thing he wanted was to catch a real cold because he stupidly went out in the frigid air wet.

It was then Jonathan noticed something missing from the wardrobe, his cloak. In fact, there was nothing left except the basic attire of shirts and pants. All of his jackets gone, in fact his luggage was missing from the room. How had be not noticed this sooner? Evidently, Count Dracula was not satisfied with simple stealing his life. No, the vile monster wanted to take all that he was and had. “Bastard.” He cursed with as much frustration and anger as one could manage. With no outer layers he’d be exposed to the cold of night. Even running wouldn’t keep him warm for long and there was the question of how far he’d have to go before reaching some form of civilization. No, someone had to live in this valley. All he had to do was run down the mountain to where the driver had picked him up at the fork. No one was said to get any closer than that. There had to be hope beyond that point.

The doors to the wardrobe shut forcefully. He’d settled on wearing two shirts. It was the only thing he could do other than steal and sheet off the bed. No, enough of this. It was time to leave so he tuckered in one of the shirts and left the second to hang. In the back of his mind he noted that his clothes no longer seemed to fit quite right.

\---

The door creaked open with a soft sound that fell flat in the corridor. Jonathan poked his head out careful taking the view of both ends to ensure there was no one there. Exiting the room, he carefully shut the door behind him so not to give away that he was no longer there. Taking a deep breath, he quietly started the journey down the hall. Every passing moment he fought the urge to let his nerves get the better of him. It felt like eyes were on him, but it was just in his head. There was only one other person, and he used that term lightly, in this structure. So why, did it feel like more?

Jonathan would pause every time he came to a turn or a new section of hall. Listening intently for any sign of his host nearby. Anything at all, even just the whisper of pages being turned. Yet, every time the air was silent as the grave.

This made footsteps hasten down the spiral staircase. As ridiculous as it looked, he ducked down behind the railing as his feet neared the bottom. Why? Because the dining room lay off to the side of the main staircase and Jonathan expected this to be where he had the most risk of running into Dracula.

Just as he was about to make a break for the front door there was a loud crash in the dining area. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect in the worst possible way. It shocked him enough that a gasp escaped parted lips before he could muffle it.

Out of fear the man sank to his knees and leaned heavily against the stone railing waiting to see if he had caused an alarm to sound. His answer was just another bang of something heavy hitting the ground. Morbidly, Harker peaked out around the edge and saw a body of a woman lying broken on the dining table. It was as if she had been thrown from the upper level. The impact sent the metal dishes to the ground in such a loud ruckus.

Curiosity took hold, was she alive? How could one be after such a fall? His feet disobeyed him and before he knew it, they had travelled just inside the room. He could hear it, faint gurgling from the woman. Good lord! There was a broken shaft of wood rammed through her chest. There was no way she could have fallen on such a thing.

“Ah… well look at this.”

No, no, no, no, no! That voice, not now. Slowly through fearful gaze he looked up from the dead girl to the very spot he had first seen the Count upon his arrival. There, as smug as ever, was the now young Count Dracula staring down at him with such amusement in his eyes.

“Did you change your mind about diner, my dear?” How could be say such a thing so casually with a dead body on the table. Unless…

Jonathan didn’t answer, no. Instead, animal instinct took over and he ran. Fast as he could to the front door and out into the cold of the night.

Not realizing that the Count had already made it to the bottom of the stairs with inhuman speed. “Johnny! A bit late for a walk, isn’t it?”

The sound of laughter lost on the wind.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Jonathan runs through the cold darkness with Dracula not too far behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long. The Pandemic hit me hard, not that I got sick or anything, but I lost all my personal space and it sent my stress through the roof. With no time to myself I couldn't get in the right mind space at all. I'm glad you all seemed to approve of my first chapter and I hope this one is worth the wait. I already know what chapter 3 will be but feared it would take a while to write everything out since my brain tends to go off on side quests while writing.
> 
> Same deal as the last one. Written late at night with no beta.

Reason died once more against its age-old foe, fear. Its absence allowed the tendrils of that fear to burrow deep into Jonathan’s body and soul. All senses blurred as if overtaxed with too much information all at once. The mind couldn’t handle it so everything shorted out leaving only the primal instinct to run in the void left behind. 

Yes, run from his prison and the man who oversaw the entire infernal outfit. Run, straight into the arms of the night’s cold embrace. Yet none of this mattered because in that moment Jonathan could only hear the pounding of his heart. So very loud as he ran with such speed it was a wonder the momentum didn’t cause him to trip down the slope and out the main gate across a small bridge. The thunder of his pulse making him deaf to the little voices whispering fears sweetly into his ear like a lover.

The main road from the castle was clear of snow, which was odd since no one every ventured up this far according to the coach driver that had left him at the fork in the road. God, it felt like forever ago since that happened. He should have left with those friendly people concerned for his safety back then. Yet, his professional pride wouldn’t allow such a dishonest thing. How was he supposed to know that his host was some kind of monster made flesh? There was no way. Yet all that mattered right now was escaping this land wrapped in winter’s icy breath because if he didn’t… that devil of a man would find his way to England. Oh god, he’d given the filth all he needed to venture beyond these lands. The Count would find Mina, he was sure of it.

They had talked, Mina and Jonathan, about his journey to Transylvania. He shared with her the name of the client he was being sent out to see. She’d found it exciting though the knowledge of her husband to be leaving so close to their wedding day weighted on her. She’d hidden it, naturally, but he had known the signs. Now, oh lord, now if something were to happen to him Mina would be sick with worry. She knew Dracula’s name, if he made landfall, she would approach him seeking information about Jonathan’s whereabouts. The bastard would play along for a while too no doubt. Until she too ended up like that poor woman’s broken body in the dining room he’d just witnessed. That couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. No, never.

\---

The adrenaline pumping through his veins aided him greatly in fighting off the chills of the night. Not to mention push through any physical limitation he may have had from a life without constant exercise outside his normal daily routine. Truly, it was a miracle he hadn’t slipped on the rough road or a patch of ice. The moon stood high enough in the sky that at least there was light for him to run by. 

He hated himself for not paying closer attention to the path of the carriage that had brought him here. Though he was sure the path from the castle to the fork in the road was fairly straight forward that did not help ease his mind should he have to venture beyond that point on foot. 

He’d have cursed at himself most viciously had it not been for his mind being thoroughly locked on moving as far from the castle as possible. He should have studied a map more carefully, no, he should have brought the map with him. Stupid mistake, though in all fairness there had been a number of items he had wanted to bring with him. However, the situation made sure that wasn’t an option. Besides, carrying too much would slow him down. 

Yet, that wasn’t the only element that threatened to slow him down. The darkness loomed just off the side of the road. No doubt a nasty slope lay hidden within. Yet, and perhaps this was the fast pulse of his blood pumping through him, it almost seemed like the darkness was… flexing… around him. As if it was trying to close all around him like two hands coming together and interlocking fingers. No, that was crazy. It was only the wind moving the tree branches. 

\---

There was no telling how long it had been. It felt like an hour at least but knowing his luck it had probably only been minutes. Jonathan’s lungs burned causing him to finally stop to catch his breath. He bent with his palms braced against his thighs in an effort to calm the fatigue that made his body beg to sit and rest. The little veins in his eyes pulsed causing his vision to jerk in time with each beat. 

Standing straight again he looked up with his eyes closed to taking slow but deep breaths of the cold night air. It filled his lungs in a way that was both refreshing and uncomfortable. Now was the first time he dared to look back at the way he came. 

The road was clear showing no signs of him being followed, though that would likely change soon there was no doubt. Jonathan could not see the front of the castle anymore and that truth alone brought him some measure of satisfaction. The prison without locks was made out to be difficult to escape, yet it hadn’t been so bad. No, it wouldn’t be right to give in to such a false sense of pride. Better, more capable, men than he have fallen for less. That he was sure of and it made the thought dance along the edges of his mind, how many have fallen inside those walls because of the Count? Frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know but the mere thought chilled him more than the icy air. Not liking how his thoughts dwelled on darker and darker subjects he turned away and forced himself to continue walking with a hand on his side applying pressure to a burning muscle cramp. 

\---

The cold was getting worse by the minute. It had been a simple chill before but now… it made his finger tips sting and ache. The clothing he’d grabbed before leaving really was horridly ill fit for the weather. Perhaps the Count was betting on the cold making Jonathan turn back and return to him. No, such an obvious plan didn’t seem to be the man’s style. In truth, there was no way to know the monster’s mind but there was one fact left painfully in the open. The escape had been sudden and even outside Jonathan’s character. Which meant, unfortunately, the Count would have to rethink what the man was capable of doing. 

However, absolutely none of this matter a bit if he could not get out of the cold. There had to someone in the valley that could help. Hell, an abandoned shack would be something. There had to be someone… somewhere. Another flesh and blood human that would take pity on him like the kind woman in the carriage who had tried to help in some small way. 

“Life…” Jonathan found himself whispering as he looked around at the black forest of the night. A realization bloomed over his expression. The area around him was still. “Where is… are the animals?” He suddenly felt very alone as he walked. Truly, there was not a sound of life around him. Granted, it was night so it was expected for some creatures to be asleep, but it shouldn’t be this quiet, right? No birds, even an owl. His pace sped up feeling as though he was being watched. That all the creatures were watching and holding a collective breath as they waited for something only they knew was coming. 

\---

Cutting the night was a sound that caused panic to spike low in Jonathan’s gut. It was behind him coming up quickly. He feared the worst naturally, but the path down the mountain side had yet to deliver him back to the fork in the road he remembered clearly. From where he was there was only the slope up the mountain peppered with trees and the slope down leading to much the same. No place to really hide easily. Whatever was coming sounded heavy and loud. Without much of a choice he took off running hoping desperately the fork in the road was close.

The sound grew louder and louder despite his best efforts. With each passing moment the sound became more and more clear. It was like something man made. Could almost hear turning within the noise. When his legs began to burn and it was clear that there was no way to outrun what followed he turned suddenly. There he saw the carriage that had carried him to the castle only there was no driver. There weren’t even horses. No, it was just rolling on its own freely down the road. With no way for the thing to roll perfectly straight with no driver so it shook and swayed side to side guided only by the uneven road and whatever force had set it in motion. Or whoever, Jonathan’s mind added grimly. Carriages were heavy how could one man set one down the road like this. After all this it seemed to be out of pure stubbornness that he continued to refer to the Count as though he were a simple human. He couldn’t help it despite the rising mountain of evidence that his host was at least moral corrupt beyond imagining. 

To make matters stranger there was a second shape following closely with the carriage. If it wasn’t for the constantly shifting device and the moon, he’d likely have missed it altogether. Four legs, too small for a horse, dark colored… a wolf! Where the hell had that beast come from? Was it following the pending crash in the hopes of a quick meal? Or… was it tracking him.

Jonathan had to remind himself that now wasn’t the time to question the strange. The carriage appeared as though it would miss him completely if he stood on the edge of the road overlooking the forest below. Yet at the last moment Jonathan got another sense of dread as the wolf moved faster and rammed its body into in the opposite of the out-of-control contraption. The force knocked it from its original path and suddenly Jonathan realized he was now in the direct path. The carriage was going off the cliff.

Fear and panic made his body spring into action with a startled shout. The only thing he could think of was to turn back and try dodging out of the way. Yet, as he moved along the edge to clear the path the wolf appeared on the other side with jaws open with a snarl. Jonathan twisted at the last second trying to avoid the cabin of the wagon going over the cliff and the wolf that was suddenly blocking his path. Body shifting uncomfortably caused his center or gravity to tilt. 

No! His mind screamed as his body suddenly started leaning back without his permission. Frightened blue eyes turning in the hopes that there was still land under him, but there wasn’t. Just a dark abyss of forest, rock, and snow eagerly awaiting. There was a moment that seemed to slow down time itself. He felt weightless and unseeing despite the adrenaline running through him. 

\---

He was so focused on the carriage rolling down the side of the cliff and his own date with gravity that he didn’t notice the wolf was gone and replaced by Count Dracula looking like something completely other. The form of a man but the eyes of a blood thirsty beast with teeth to match. The Count hadn’t been trying to send the lawyer off the side of the mountain. Oh no, too risky and he still needed his Johnny. He simply had been trying to block the road forward and misjudged his strength and the environment. Jonathan was falling and hadn’t even noticed the Count’s hand shoot out to try and grab him. Tonight was no one’s night it seemed as the Count’s fingers missed Johnny by a few hairs.

The Count was on the edge of the cliff watching both the carriage and his johnny fade into the darkness below. He could hear the breaking of wood and metal. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot if he had anything to say about it.

\---

The ground rushed up to meet him quickly. Lacking the momentum of the ill-fated carriage, Jonathan had hit the side of cliff and rolled the rest of the way down over rocks and snow build up. It was a miracle nothing broke on the way down but upon reaching the bottom he landed in a snow bank at the foot of a tree. That impact alone knocked the wind out of him to the point he almost lost consciousness.

As he laid there in the snow the world around was silent. It was so tempting to just close his eyes rest a while. Yet, there was no time when danger was still out there somewhere. If he didn’t get up than all was for nothing and the Count would win. This thought along was enough to push Jonathan to try and move but his body protested. The snow soaked through his clothes making him shiver the feeling of a thousand needles stinging him, especially his hands. It took a lot of effort to finally pull himself up by gripping the tree beside him. Aches and pains were everywhere and he imagines a nice set of bruises from the fall already forming under his beaten skin. There must be cuts somewhere on his body. One doesn’t survive such a fall without cuts and scraps at the least. He took a step away from the tree and winced. It felt like his hip was out of place as a stinging pain would flare up between his hips and thigh. 

This wouldn’t work at all should he have to run. There was little choice but to lean against the tree and slowly work the joint back and forth until the pain became more manageable. Each spike in pain made him wince and gasp louder than desired in an otherwise dead silent forest. Truly, the silence was worse down there than it was up on the road. Down below things felt more closed off and the shadows made one unsure as to whether they were really alone. The wolf up above proved the area was not as empty as it seemed and it was common sense that where there is one wolf there is more. For that reason alone, Jonathan began walking through the dark forest ignoring the faint ache in his joints now that walking was easier. 

\---

Through the dark canopy moonlight spilled through creating trails of light that would fluctuate as the branches above swayed in a passing breeze. Jonathan braced himself rubbing his painfully cold hands on his damp clothing. He hoped the friction would warm him but all it did was remind him of how uncomfortable he really was. 

He startled at the sound of wolves howling somewhere in the surrounding area. He vaguely recalled an old school friend excitedly reciting facts about animals. It almost made him smile for the first time in what felt like hours remembering his friend’s eagerness to learn and study the creatures of the world. Did you know, Jonathan are you listening? Did you know the howl of a wolf could be heard from a long way off? They use it to locate the members of their pack. 

That thought brought little comfort to him. On the one hand it meant that the wolves could be far off and wouldn’t be an issue. One the other, what if they also used it to communicate the location of prey? He was lean, hardly any really muscle or fat to be seen, surely, they wouldn’t see him as food. A little voice whispered in his mind that it was winter and their standards probably became more laxed. 

Jonathan shivered as he forced himself to keep walking. The tree tops were thick in places causing uneven snow fall on the forest floor. This became apparent upon the discovery of a clearing. The trees were spaced out more but the canopy was as thick as ever. The snow on the ground was thin, very thin, but that wasn’t the strangest part. No, the strangest thing was that the snow didn’t appear naturally placed. It was like something had come through and pushed it all along the edges of the clearing. Thoughts began to question what this meant but a sound interrupted his thoughts. 

It was the crunching of snow and the rustling of bushes nearby. Teeth bit into his lip in an attempt to keep sounds quiet. A second set of noises made him jerk to the opposite side. Suddenly, a realization dawned on him, was this a killing floor? 

He moved slowly towards an old rotting tree near the center of the clearing. He wanted something near him that he could keep between himself and whatever was out there. Low-key, he also wanted some kind of weapon. Damn, he wished he had the ability to make a fire. One more thing to learn as soon as he gets back to England.

\---

The quiet of the night broke when the bushes started to move again. Anytime he tried to move near the edges the crunching of snow followed him. Seemed that he was trapped, but why did whatever it was not just get it over with and attack him? Suddenly, a black figure jumped over the bound of snow and entered into the clearing. The blotches of light revealed it to be a wolf. The same wolf from the road above. Now he got a better look at it. It was an older dark furred animal with grey on his chin and peppering its chest. The most unsettling thing was the beast’s eyes. They shined in the dim light as if the creature was hollow of a soul.

It began to slowly move towards him, naturally this caused Jonathan to back up towards the tree from earlier. He wasn’t stupid, there was no way he could outrun the wolf in the snow and with his aching body. The beast lunged without warning and Jonathan turned as fast as he could to run towards the other side of the clearing.

Poor man nearly died in terror on the spot as he rounded a pair of trees and found the Count standing perfectly still with eyes locked on him. The shock stopped him in his tracks. The momentum wanted to fling him forward but the fear pushed him backwards onto the ground. 

It was ridiculous really; the appearance of his captor was enough to make him forget about the wild animal wanting to rip out of his throat. Yet there he stared up at Dracula frozen from both fear and cold alike. Part of the Count’s face was hidden in shadows but from what he could see there was little in the way of expression. The man was a statue despite those dark eyes following him as he fell. To Jonathan it was as though the man had forgotten how to be a man. The eyes are intense like being locked on prey, not dissimilar to those of the wolf. Yet, the longer the moment ran animation returned to the Count. Irritation narrowed his eyes and pulled back his lips before they turned upwards into an amused smirk. His eyes relaxed to project a good nature. 

“You take rather enthusiastic walks for a man fallen ill overnight.” Dracula’s eyes shined knowingly, “So full of surprises, my Johnny.” The man moved confidently towards the lawyer but each stride was met with Jonathan backing up on all fours trying to maintain distance. Eventually, his back hit the trunk of a tree and the Count stopped looking a bit bored with this fear act. 

Things didn’t add up to Jonathan. He had figured the Count would give chase, he did witness a murder after all, but how had he gotten here so fast. Surely it was to be expected he’d know this land better than the Englishman. Was he not worried about the wolves? Speaking of which the realization that such a beast was still behind him cause hands to quickly grab the tree and push himself back up. Dracula made no attempt to stop or help. Just watched to see what other surprises were in store.

Ignoring the murdering bastard for a moment he carefully looked around the tree to find where the beast was. To his shock it appeared to have vanished in thin air. No, that couldn’t be right something that large didn’t just vanish. He turned his back fully to the Count and moved around the tree completely scanning the area with what light was available. There was nothing. 

“What are you looking for?” Dracula’s voice sounded much to close. Surprisingly, the Count had followed him closely standing just off to the side behind him. Very close, close enough to touch. Yet, even with the shiver running up his spine Jonathan refused to be caught shouting out again. Or at least his mind was too engaged in the search to allow it.   
“There was… a wolf. It sprang from the darkness and was in pursuit. I was running from it when you appeared.” The frantic tone had leveled off leaving Jonathan more confused than anything. 

He did however jump a little when he felt the Count’s hand grip his shoulder before releasing and sliding up his skin to cup the side of his neck. He flinched feeling nails lightly drag over the mystery scar on his throat. No doubt on purpose from the expression on his captor’s face. He had tried to free himself but the grip only tightened like a parent scolding a child. He hated the tone shift that seemed to happen around the Count. First, he was running for his life and now he was stuck in place with the same man acting like he gave a damn. 

Dracula, without lifting his hand, moved in front of the lawyer blocking out the whole view of the clearing. Mock concern in his eyes as another hand came up to touch his cheek and forehead because brushing back into his hair. “Johnny, you’re quite cold, dear. Are you feeling alright? Seeing things in the shadows where there are none?” 

“Seeing things! No!” He snapped at the very thought. He might not be as sharp as others but his eyes did not lie nor did his mind. “I know what I saw, Count.” Of course, Dracula just made a look as if he wasn’t so sure.

“Oh dear, perhaps you have become ill after all.” The hand in his hair slid down over his shoulder to rest at his waist. “Johnny, I need you to listen carefully. There was no wolf. I found you down here in a panic and freezing. It’s all in your mind, love.” Whatever effect he was looking to achieve with his words, didn’t happen. 

Jonathan snarled at him in the most uncharacteristic way seen yet. With rage filled strength he shoved the Count away freeing himself from the hands that seemed all to eager to grab him. “Don’t you fucking dare imply that this is all in my head. You who have lied from the very moment I entered this godforsaken land.” All previous body pain seemed to vanish, ah the joys of adrenaline and raw emotion. Jonathan moved away from the Count and tree to another side of the clear not previously explored. There was a moment as he reached the edge of the snow where he thought he smelt something on the wind. It was so faint but was it smoke? Poor man could have cried at the thought of hope. Yet there was no way he’d get to chance it with the Count nearby. 

He looked back and almost flinched again. The Count was smiling from where he’d been shoved but the eyes didn’t quite match the expression on his lips. No, they were predatory again and in giving off the same glow he’d seen on the wolf. It couldn’t be, right? The two could not be the same. 

“My, my… every time I think you’re at wit’s end you come back with such a fire in you, Johnny. I like that.” There was almost a low growl serving as an undertone to those words. “Since we are on the subject of lies and truth, I have a question for you. How did those scratches get on your window?”

Jonathan thoughts for a moment trying to decide if he wanted to answer or not. “They… appeared the first night I arrived. You had left the room and I was settling in when the sound started from the window. I went to pull back the drapes and there it was.” Dracula listened closely as he started to move slowly towards his prize once more. 

“Have you been in contact with anyone else inside the castle?” There was something almost possessive in the way that was said. 

Jonathan had to remember his anger to keep from getting distracted again. One of his hands reached back to touch the old wood to ground himself. It was weak and easily flexed under his touch. He wondered if he could use it as a weapon somehow should the Count get too aggressive. This said something has he wasn’t a violent man by nature. Rarely did even the thought of so much as punching someone cross his mind. 

“Johnny, answer me.” He blinked and jumped as now Dracula was in his face. How did he keep moving without being seen or heard? He realized that he was all but pinned against the tree now.

“N-No. You are the only one I’ve seen. Not even any of those servants you claim work in the day.” Unseen, Jonathan’s hand tightened around a chunk of old wood that came lose easily. Despite this the wood was partially frozen. Probably why it didn’t disintegrate under his touch.

Dracula hummed to himself using Johnny’s reoccupied mind to his advantage. And arm slid around his waist in prevent his boy from running off again. “Then why did you recognize her? Broken on the table, dishes thrown all about. You had seen her face before…” His tone was dangerously soft as he leaned in letting his mouth hover close to the smaller man’s. “… I saw the connection light up your eyes as I realized why I smelt ash on your face earlier. It was because of her I was inclined to believe something had happened to you.” Shit. So, his sickness trick hadn’t been as fool proof as he’d hoped. 

Jonathan tensed up gripping the shoulder to the arm tracing circles on his back with his free hand. “You… is that why you killed her?” 

Another hum escaped Dracula but this one grew deeper like a growling purr. “Yes. The thought she had been poaching you under my nose was… maddening. Your life, your death… all and more are mine.” Everything was changing around him again. Why couldn’t people be one note, things would have been easier. Dracula used him for the opportunity to see a new land. Then there was still the matter of his age running reverse. The man was a killer but he did things to confuse intentions and made things hard to read. This was no different. He used words fitting for someone precious to him but stared at him like a beast eyeing fresh meat. He hated all of it.

\---

Dracula took the moment to close the distance between them. Mouth to mouth there was something horrifyingly familiar about this. Like some echo from a nightmare forgotten in the spell of sleep. There was something being pressed to the seam of his lips. Slowly pressing and swiping looking for a weakness to use for entry. The Count’s previously forgotten hand pressed a nail to the scar on Jonathan’s throat causing a flare of something zip through him forcing a gasp out. It was the opening sought after as the man’s tongue pushed in tasting everything for offer. Jonathan flinches again tasting something metallic on his taste buds. 

Fear and anger leaked back into the forefront of his mind. This too was another trick. Something evil to seal his fate here. If he didn’t do something he’d likely end up like that woman. He’d never see England again or his friends and family. Or Mina. This creature with a man’s face was going to destroy is all, he just knew it. Something primal snapped in his mind and before he could give it thought the hand behind his back rushed to his front and shoved with all his strength. 

The chunk of wood had been expected to just push the two apart. He hadn’t expected it to actually pierce the Count’s chest. Yet too their collective surprise it did. It dug into Dracula’s middle below the heart. He could feel the Count tense and rip away from him like a man possessed. A shout of animalistic pain and anger sounded and it honestly didn’t fit his form at all. Jonathan watched the man fold in on himself falling to his knees with one hand on the ground. The bastard spat blood up as his chest heaved. 

Jonathan jumped back when Dracula’s head shot up to glare at him. With a perfectly placed blotch of light the lawyer gasped again in fear. The Count’s dark eyes were blood shot and his lips were pulled back to show sharp jagged teeth. It was like the mask had broken away and now the true monster was in the light. This was what was stealing back years of youth and snatching memories from air. This was what was obsessed with blood and flies. 

Jonathan screamed and was answered by an enraged snarl. He didn’t wait for what would come next. He turned away and made off into the darkness in the direction of the smoke he smelt earlier. 

\---

He ran. Pain be damned, he ran. With Dracula’s inhuman cries of agony at his back his hurried out of the clearing. He followed the smell of smoke through the trees and not so silently prayed that it wasn’t all a lie cooked up by a desperate brain. He could hear the sounds of snow crunching behind him and knew it was now or never. If he didn’t find safety with his last effort he was done for. 

He reached down deep inside to find that bit of extra energy reserved for moments like this. It made his muscles burn more as they picked up speed. It seemed like a miracle, a literally light at the end of a dark corner. The smell of smoke was becoming stronger and there in the trees ahead was light. A warm glorious orange glow. His body pushed harder because it knew there would be an end to the cold terrorizing his form. 

A dark cry of anger sounded not far behind and he knew that the Count was likely seeing red upon seeing what Jonathan was. Yet, this only encouraged him all the more as he cleared a snow bank and found himself outside a cabin. Animals furs lay in varies degrees of preparation. None of this registered as he quickly found the door and threw himself against it. Surprisingly it hadn’t been locked and Jonathan fell inside the threshold scaring the lone figure inside half to death. His heart hammered in his chest distracting him from the stranger’s quick recovery. 

There were footsteps from outside and this drew the Stranger’s attention. Hurrying to the door it was shut tightly and bolted. Claws slammed into the wood but did not manage to break it down. Soon the sounds died out and it was only the gasping for air of Jonathan in the night as he succumbed to the stress and exhaustion of the night. He passed out.

TBC  
Alternative Title: Dracula just can’t win.


End file.
